


the apple pie life

by sleepymoon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bobby Lives, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gabriel Lives, Happy Ending, Kid Fic, M/M, Magic, Magical Accidents, Mpreg, Not Canon Compliant, Pregnant Castiel, Set somewhere after season 5, Shamelessly self-indulgent, Sharing a Bed, Surprise Pairing, Woke Up Married, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 14:17:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7466568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepymoon/pseuds/sleepymoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is mean to Cas, goes to sleep, wakes up and suddenly he's married, has kids, and nothing makes sense anymore.<br/><br/>Oh, and Crowley makes a sudden but very significant appearance.<br/><br/>(High levels of ridiculousness and fluff ahead).</p>
            </blockquote>





	the apple pie life

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [VeraBAdler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraBAdler). (Thank you so much! ♡) Any remaining mistakes are mine.

This is the last, _the fucking last_ time Dean will ever get himself involved with fairies.

The wicked ones, at least. They're just nasty and they tend to play dirty.

One second he's trying his hardest to trap one of them long enough to recite the banishing spell, when suddenly Castiel appears at his side out of nowhere with a mighty flap of wings, shiny angel blade clenched in his fist and ready to strike. Except that in doing so, he also accidentally steps right onto the trap Dean had hastily drawn on the floor, smudging one of the chalk lines with his heel.

The next thing Dean knows, he's covered in glitter (or was it fairy dust?) from head to toes, and the fairy is gone.

Castiel looks down at the pavement, then back up at Dean.

“Oh.”

The angel tilts his head to the side, considering Dean's murderous expression with his usual impassible stance.

“It appears my presence here was unnecessary.”

“No shit, Cas, what makes you think that?” Dean snaps, angrily rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand, which is also dripping with the sticky substance. “This stuff could be poisonous for all I know! Do you plan to _do_ something about it or will you just stand there and be useless instead?”

Castiel frowns some more at his angry tone and touches him gently on the shoulder, zapping them back to the motel Dean and Sam checked in when they arrived in town.

“Dean, I'm sorry. While I'm certain it doesn't pose any immediate threats to your life, I appear to be unable to remove the substance from you.”

“ _Shit._ Fucking great, just what I needed to hear.”

“I fear I cannot provide you any form of assistance in this instance. Perhaps-”

“Cas, will you just shut up for a second? You've done enough for tonight, don't you think? I don't have the patience right now to deal with you. You've been hanging around humans long enough now to be able to get it when you're outstaying your fucking welcome. Go find someone else to bother and _please_ stay the fuck away from me.”

Castiel flinches back, his hand hastily dropping from Dean's shoulder. He looks around helplessly for a moment, seeming, if possible, even more awkward and out of place than usual in the small motel room. Dean suddenly feels like a total jerk.

“I- of course,” Castiel says. “My apologies.”

And before Dean can open his mouth, he's gone.

 

Dean ends up staying right under the shower's spray for long minutes, scrubbing at his face and neck furiously, but all in vain. The glittery stuff just sticks to his skin. Defeated, he throws the sponge at his feet with an annoyed grunt, turning off the water and blindly reaching for a towel.

He knows Sam won't be back for at least a couple hours, so he slumps down on his ratty, uncomfortable bed, figuring he might as well catch some sleep in the meantime.

It's not like this thing can't wait till morning, anyway.

*****

 

 

Someone shifts slightly against his left side, slinking towards him on the mattress and clinging tighter to his middle, slotting their bodies close enough to press soft, barely-there kisses along the curve of his jaw - slowly, methodically, with the barest hint of teeth.

Dean can't prevent his lips from stretching into a large, blissed-out smile. Whoever his one-night stand is, he's going to kick her out of his bed in a minute, but for now he can actually enjoy the extra attention just fine. It's kind of unusual but still nice, even if there's something off about it, something he can't quite put his fingers on...

“Dean.”

Yeah, right.

For a start, his one night stands do not usually sport stubble. And they certainly do not sound anything like _that._

His eyes shoot wide open, his brain supplying at once who the familiar voice belongs to, but at the same time having trouble processing it.

Dean bolts upright, arms flailing with such agitation that he almost rolls off the bed.

“What the fuck. _Cas?!_ What the hell are you doing?” he all but yells, watching in extreme bewilderment as the angel's forehead creases with worried lines. Castiel reaches a hand to touch his chest but Dean jerks back as if burned. It's Castiel. Right next to him. In his bed. Possibly even _naked._

“ _Cas._ I just asked you a question. Because this is a whole new level of weird, even for you. What are you doing in my-”

 _Bed,_ he would have finished, if it weren't for the fact that... well, it wasn't his bed, but a queen-size one.

They aren't in the motel room from last night, either.

Dean struggles to breathe in, looking around frantically.  
He only calms down a little when he finally recognizes the place. They're at Bobby's house, in one of the guest rooms.

“Did you zap me in here? While I was _sleeping?_ Are you freaking _insane?”_

“I did not zap us anywhere. This is our room, Dean. Are you okay? _Dean.”_

“ _Our_ room? Wha-”

Something is clearly very, very wrong here, and he doesn't like it, not even one bit.

Castiel keeps staring at him, as if trying to understand what Dean is playing at. Dean fleetingly wonders if the situation could get any creepier.

As if on cue, a little girl comes running into the room and jumps onto the bed with an elated squeal. Dean belatedly recognizes his worn-out Metallica t-shirt acting as a perfect sleeping gown for the child. Her blondish hair is ruffled like she just woke up and her tiny potato nose is heavily freckled. She yawns noisily and pushes her way between him and Castiel, oblivious to the strained atmosphere in the room. Dean is conflicted between being horrified at the fact that there is a _kid_ and being relieved that she actually put some space between him and the obviously crazy angel.

The only possible explanation is that Cas had gone mad during the night and had resolved to kidnap kids from the neighborhood - and also Dean himself, apparently -, because he wanted to play house with them, or something. And isn't that thought just terribly, _terribly_ disturbing.

“Cas- I mean. What the-” he's interrupted abruptly from what was surely going to be one hell of a rant when a boy appears out of nowhere in mid-air and lands on top of Dean's chest, pushing him flat into the mattress and knocking the very breath right out of him.

“Joel,” Castiel chides, voice low and serious, “what did we say countless times before about flying unsupervised?”

“... That I shouldn't do it without permission,” the boy mutters sulkily, while the hunter has stopped breathing altogether. The child lifts his head then, smiling widely at him. _Oh_ _no,_ he has freckles too. And Cas' ridiculously big blue eyes. _This is not happening, this is not happening,_ Dean chants obstinately in his head, feeling on the verge of a panic attack.

“Morning, dad,” the boy says cheerfully, confirming his worst suppositions.

What the hell _is happening?_

“You said I could sit shotgun today. You promised.”

“No way. It's my turn!” pipes up the girl, who's currently busy snuggling into Cas' side.

“Is not!” replies the boy.

“Is too!”

“Is not!”

 _“What”_ Dean finally manages to croak, his head still fuzzy, brain still stubbornly refusing to cooperate.

“We'll discuss this issue later. Now it's time for breakfast,” interrupts Cas. “Come on. Joel, Evelyn.”

Castiel gets up from the bed, while Evelyn scoots closer to Dean. She places a quick kiss on his cheek, then she sticks out her tongue at her brother, who promptly returns the gesture. She jumps to the floor, taking Castiel's outstretched hand; swinging it back and forth between them, they head towards the door. Castiel pauses on the threshold and turns to look at Dean, his forehead creasing in worry again.

“Are you feeling alright, Dean?”

Dean blinks.

Three pairs of blue eyes are now focused on him, expectant. He swallows. That's just unfair - he's clearly outnumbered. And even if he feels he would be plenty justified in freaking out, all things considered, he musters up his remaining self-control and forces out a shaky smile.

“S-sure. I'm fine. I just... really need some coffee.”

He wiggles a bit, and the kid – Joel, supplies his muddled brain – rolls down from his chest, ending up stretched on his back, giggling and stretching his arms to grab at him. Dean quickly jumps out of bed, standing on wobbly legs. He risks a glance in the direction of the door. Castiel and the girl are gone. Now maybe if he focuses hard enough, the boy will also disappear and he will be able to write this whole thing off as a drunken hallucination.

He slowly turns his head to the side and... yeah, no such luck.

Joel is still there, and so are his blue eyes, and his freckled nose and his... wait, is that his Led Zeppelin t-shirt?

And oh God, is he pouting?

Dean cringes. _He is._ And that pout is awfully familiar too.

“ _Sam_. Right. Where is Sam?”

“Uncle Sam is downstairs with Annie!”

“Who's...” he starts asking, but Joel interrupts him by raising his arms towards him, a clear sign that he wants to be picked up. “You can walk just fine,” Dean says, backing up a step. “And stop with the pouting. And don't even start with the puppy eyes, that trick doesn't work with me.”

Except that apparently it totally does, and ten seconds later he has an armful of angel kid. Dean's life. No one would believe it. He held Sam just like this countless times when he was little, so the motions are still ingrained into him, despite his current less-than-ideal emotional state. Gingerly, he places his left hand on the kid's higher back to support him, until Joel starts squirming in his hold, making Dean almost drop him.

“Dad!” Joel protests, “Dad, stop, you're tickling my wings!”

Dean quickly snatches his hand away.

“Uh. Right. Sorry.”

Trust Cas' kid to be unfairly adorable and _have wings,_ too. Which is kind of obvious, now that he thinks about it, since apparently he can zap himself around the house as he likes.

“Okay,” he says, more to himself than to Joel. “That's pretty cool. Okay. So you are my son. That's... pretty cool too. I guess I will just wake up, eventually, right?”

Joel looks up at him, tilting his head to the side, confused. It's not hard to guess who he picked up that particular habit from.

“Never mind. Uh. So. Breakfast, right? Downstairs. I guess we... we can do that.”

*****

 

 

Dean finds yet another girl perched on the top of the kitchen counter, swinging her tiny legs up and down.

She's wearing a light blue tutu and she looks like she might be a few years younger than Evelyn and Joel.

Dean feels faint all over again.

“Oh, please. You can't be serious. Just how many fucking kids do we have, Cas?” he mutters under his breath.

“Uncle Dean, that was a bad word!” the girl rebukes, scrunching up her nose. Oh. Oh, _uncle._ Thank God.

But wait, that must mean...

Somehow it takes him another moment to notice Sam, who's sitting at the far end of the table, head buried in his laptop, shoulders hunched and fingers flying rapidly over the keyboard.

“Morning,” his brother finally says, lifting his head towards him with a big smile. It falters a bit though when he takes in Dean and his rattled expression. He frowns. “What's wrong?”

“Who exactly did you make that kid with?”

Sam rolls his eyes, returning his concentration to the laptop's screen.

“Ha. Ha. Yeah, very funny, Dean. Hilarious. Excuse me if I don't laugh some more, but I'm kinda busy right now. You know, with planning all the details of our next hunt.”

Dean sits down cautiously in one of the chairs.

“Wait, you mean we're still hunting?”

“What do you mean, _still?_ You insisted we take this case! Don't tell me you've already changed your mind. You've been bugging me about this for _weeks_ -”

Castiel chooses that second to plop down on the chair at Dean's side, startling him. Evelyn and Joel are already digging into their breakfast, and even the angel starts stacking his plate full. He attacks his waffles with a voracity that could easily rival the one he showed during the whole Famine affair. Dean can do nothing but stare at him stupidly, mouth hanging open.

“And since when do you eat?” he dares to ask, though he's not so sure he wants to know the answer.

The angel finishes chewing and swallows his mouthful before turning towards him, frowning. Even Sam raises an eyebrow at that, shooting Dean a confused look.

“Dean, what is it with you today? I'm eating because I'm hungry, since we decided that having a third fledgling would be a good idea. Are you eating that?” He points at the generous slice of apple pie sitting next to Dean's plate. Without waiting for his answer, though, he quickly snatches the pie for himself.

Dean should have kept his big mouth shut.

His internal freak-out is cut relatively short, however, because in that moment the archangel Gabriel appears in the room with a mighty flutter of wings.

Dean bolts upright, almost knocking the chair to the floor.

“What are you _doing_ here? You're supposed to be _dead._ Of course it's you! This is all your fault, isn't it? _I knew it._ What the hell do you think you're playing at, huh? Are you _crazy?_ Send me back right now, you prick!”

For a few seconds Gabriel just openly gapes at him. Then he turns to look at Sam, who shrugs helplessly in response.

“Okay Dean-o, look, I know I'm not exactly your favorite person, but I thought we came to a sort of passive-aggressive agreement? No? I'm just here to collect my little girl, _anyway_. I don't mean to intrude on your little family gathering.”

“But you are family, uncle Gabe!” pipes up Joel, quickly supported by Evelyn's enthusiastic: “Yes, you are!”

The archangel lights up in a big, toothy smile, while Dean feels oddly betrayed.

“Well, aren't we so lucky that your kids turned out way nicer than you, Dean? Now, though. Where is my little pumpkin?”

The younger girl – Annie, Dean's brain supplies somewhat reluctantly - vanishes from her spot on the counter only to reappear with a puff a second later in the archangel's awaiting arms. They touch their foreheads together, the both of them giggling, and the whole scene turns sickeningly endearing.

“The no-flying rule applies to you as well, miss,” chides Sam, but he's smiling at them with a soft light in his eyes.

Dean suddenly has his answer, but that's- well, it's just too much. He doesn't know how much more of this nonsense he will be able to handle.

“Anyway, Gabe, you're welcome to stay with us,” Sam is saying, “Dean just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” He turns to look at Dean with a smirk. “I thought Cas was the one supposed to have mood swings, not you.”

Dean feels incredibly, _incredibly_ distressed.

Mustering up all his remaining self-control (and saying there's not much left of it would be the understatement of the century), he briefly considers his current options.

He could sit back down, have breakfast with the rest of them, and try to ignore the fact that nothing is remotely making any sense. Or, he could bolt for the front door and run as fast as his legs will carry him. They would probably catch up with him pretty quickly, though, and demand explanations he'd be in no state to give.

Dean lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles.

There is still some leftover pie sitting on the table and it smells heavenly. And Cas looks disturbingly adorable with a milk mustache adorning his upper lip. It makes Dean itch to do crazy things, like swooping closer and licking it off. Which would mean giving in to the collective insanity, and he's _not_ doing that, that would be _wrong._

“Bobby!” Dean exclaims, wrenching his eyes away from Castiel's mouth. “I need to talk with Bobby. Right now.”

“He's probably still asleep,” supplies Sam. “Dean, are you sure you're alri-?”

Dean's out of the room before Sam can finish the sentence.

He climbs the stairs two at a time, and when he reaches Bobby's bedroom, he rams his knuckles against the door.

“Bobby. It's Dean. We need to talk. It's really urgent.”

He fidgets, rocking on the balls of his feet.

When, after a few minutes, the door finally opens inward, Dean's initial relief is very short-lived as he's faced with a truly frightening sight.

He can't do anything but stare, mouth hanging open in shock.

“Can I help you?” Crowley asks, scratching his naked belly. He's clad in nothing but tiny pink boxers.

Dean takes a step back, then another.

He turns on his heels and walks away on autopilot.

*****

 

 

A gentle hand coming to rest on his left shoulder wrenches him out of his hazy thoughts.

He's sitting in the middle of the staircase, gripping his knees to steady himself. He's sure he's just a minute away from getting sick.

He turns up his head blearily, having some trouble to focus.

“Dean.” Castiel is gazing down at him, clearly worried. “Will you talk to me? You are not acting like yourself today; what is bothering you? If you don't tell me what's wrong I cannot help. Are you... If there is a problem, or-” he pauses, threading a hand through his messy hair, and a glint of gold suddenly catches the hunter's eye. Dean surges up and grabs Castiel's hand, forcing him to hold it between them as he stares down at it.

Oh, fuck it, this is way too much.

“This. This is my mother's ring!”

He roughly snatches it free from Castiel's finger, startling him.

“Dean...”

“What are you doing with it? How did you-” Dean can feel a sudden, blinding rage mounting up inside of him, but when he looks up at the angel's face again it all simmers down in the space of a heartbeat. Castiel looks devastated.

“I- I didn't mean-” Dean stutters awkwardly. “Cas. Look. I'm sorry. But this... this is all _absurd_. And I can't- I can't deal with it, okay? I woke up this morning with you in my bed and we're suddenly together, and there are _kids_ everywhere and... I don't know what I'm doing here. I- I don't belong to this place, to this timeline.”

“To me,” Cas finishes quietly, “You don't belong to me.”

Dean's shoulders sag with relief.

“Yeah. I... I don't. Sorry.”

“What is the last thing you remember?”

“Uh. Northbrook, Illinois. I was hunting a wicked fairy. You stepped in at the last second and blew up my whole plan.”

Castiel looks at him for a long moment, forehead creased in thought, before nodding a little hesitantly.

“Yes, I remember. That was... almost five years ago.”

Dean blinks, a tiny hysterical laugh escaping his throat.

“Wait. What are you saying? That this is my _future?_ Cas, seriously, come on. No. That's insane. I'm probably just... I don't know, hallucinating or something. It was all that damned fairy dust, that stuff messes with your brain. You're not real. None of you are.”

“Well. In that case, I really hope you're mistaken,” Castiel whispers sadly, and then he adds, without raising his voice, “Gabriel, please come here. I need to speak with you.”

Castiel takes Gabriel to the side and they share a brief, heated exchange in a language Dean doesn't understand. Gabriel finally gives a curt nod, throwing a frowning look in Dean's direction before vanishing again with a flap of wings.

“I asked him to take the children outside. I don't want to risk them overhearing any of this.”

Dean follows Castiel downstairs and back into the kitchen.

All the fight from a minute ago seems to have left him. He lets the angel explain the situation to his brother, and eventually also to Bobby when the old grunt wanders into the room looking for a coffee fix. (Luckily this time Crowley is nowhere in sight, half-naked or otherwise).

“Maybe it's just a case of temporary memory loss,” Sam suggests hopefully. “I mean, it's the most logical explanation I can come up with. Although, we should make sure we're not dealing with a curse or anything nastier first.” He throws a despairing look at Dean, grimacing, “I'll start researching, okay? I'll do my best. We'll get your memories back.”

Castiel stays silent while Sam and Bobby start pestering Dean with questions regarding the last things he remembers.

Dean can't help his gaze from slipping every so often towards the angel, who keeps his eyes lowered to his entwined hands on his lap. It takes a few minutes for Dean to realize that Castiel is stroking the spot where his mom's ring used to be. He forces himself to look away.

“I think the right thing to do, for now, is for you to act as normal as you can. It could really upset the kids if they were to find out that their dad doesn't even remember who they are,” Sam concludes with an encouraging smile that looks slightly forced.

Dean reluctantly nods in agreement.

While he has no idea what their notion of “normal” exactly entails, it's not like he has much of choice, does he?

Castiel is still resolutely not looking at him, and Dean's hands tighten into fists under the table.

This is not going to be easy.

*****

 

 

“I can't let you sleep on the floor, man, come on. You're pregnant. However weird that is. And don't even try to give me all that 'I'm an angel of the Lord' crap, alright?”

Castiel tries to argue the point, but Dean is unmovable.

They end up sleeping in the same bed, promising to keep to their respective sides. During the night, though, Dean wakes up to find that Castiel has rolled over and pressed his face against his arm. He really shouldn't be surprised that the angel turns out to be a cuddle monster.  
Castiel's breath tickles his skin, and he murmurs Dean's name in his sleep a couple of times, trying to snuggle closer. The first time it happens Dean freezes and tries to pull away. Castiel lets out a disappointed sound, a sort of breathy whine, and Dean can't help but laugh at that.

It's definitely strange, but not entirely unpleasant. He ends up not minding it as much as he thought he would.

Castiel is warm, and he smells nice. When Dean wakes up the following morning with the angel half-sprawled on top of him, he coughs loudly, feeling his face heating up. Castiel stirs awake and sits up at once, apologizing profusely and looking so flustered that Dean wants to snicker at him, but refrains. It's always best not to upset pregnant women, he's been told. Or dudes- angels- whatever.

It turns out to be disturbingly easy for him to catch up with the daily routine.

It's not the conventional apple pie life he would have dreamed for himself, but still... it's pretty weird how quickly he gets used to it.

Sometimes in the morning Evelyn and Joel come running into their room, little feet padding on the wooden floor in a hurry to jump on their parents' bed and get some cuddle time. Unsurprisingly, this leads, more often than not, to pillow fights and delighted, high-pitched squeals. By the end of it Dean usually finds himself pinned to the mattress, one kid sprawled out on top of his chest and the other doing the same on top of Castiel.

The angel's soft gaze prickles at his skin. It's so absurd, all of it, but Dean can't help feeling something warm unfurl inside of his rib cage every time he notices.

Castiel looks at him out of the corners of his sad eyes, and Dean realizes he must be missing the Dean whose place he took - the Dean who loves him back and is probably a decent enough dad and a passable... husband? The thought is unsettling. Castiel is still the same nerdy angel he knows so well, but he's different nevertheless. He's still curious and naive, but in a more subdued way. He seems... well, he's a dad now, that must count for something.

One day Dean hears him make a Dr. Sexy reference and his head whips around so fast he thinks it's a miracle he doesn't sprain something. Castiel looks at him uncomprehendingly for a second before his face breaks into an amused smile.

“Well. _You_ made me watch it,” he says, shrugging, “I still don't quite understand all the appeal you find in it, though.”

Dean grins.

“Ha, that's because you never role-played it in bed,” he laughs, but at Castiel's prolonged silence he turns to look at him and notices the telltale blush on his cheeks. “Wha-? Oh my God. _Seriously?”_

“You were... quite insistent,” Cas replies defensively.

Dean's lips curl up at the corners.

“The bed upstairs has seen quite a few interesting things, for sure.”

“I suppose. It's also where we made love for the first time.”

Dean almost swallows his tongue, caught in a coughing fit.

Castiel laughs, patting his back until he regains his breath.

“Um. On second thought, maybe we really shouldn't be talking about this stuff,” Dean mutters with a grimace, but then he can't help but ask, “Was it a passable first time for you, at least?”

Castiel tilts his head to the side, frowning like he has to think really hard about it, and Dean just kind of rocks on his feet awkwardly, already regretting his stupid question.

“Actually, Dean, I never said _you_ were my first time.”

At that, Dean's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, and he's suddenly seeing red.

He wants to- he doesn't even know what, just- punch this unknown person in the face.

Without realizing it he's already started to plot a way to track this bastard down, when he catches sight of Castiel out of the corner of his eye. He's not quite looking at him, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth, his shoulders shaking slightly. Yes, despite doing his best to stifle it, the angel is obviously giggling at him.

Dean's shoulders sag in instant relief, but he also feels a small trickle of irritation running down his spine.

He's not so sure he likes this smart-ass version of Castiel anymore.

“What the hell! It's not- _Stop laughing,_ it's not funny at all, you feathered dick!” he yells.

Castiel drops his composure altogether, now openly laughing with his head thrown back. It's a very nice sound, Dean realizes, a bit shaken.

“I'm sorry,” the angel says, still snickering. “It's just that- your face... I couldn't resist. I'm- sorry.”

Dean scowls at him, feeling his cheeks heating up.

Castiel finally sobers up, his eyes softening in that particular way that makes Dean's heart do funny things, like throwing itself into his throat for no apparent reason.

“To answer your question, it is a memory I cherish dearly. I always will. You were very... dedicated, and passionate. You made it worth the wait.”

“Yeah? Eons and all?”

“Of course, Dean. Eons and all.”

“You sure know how to flatter a guy, huh?” the hunter huffs, his face reddening even more. “I don't want details though.”

“I was not going to give you any details,” Castiel deadpans, making Dean laugh.

When Joel, Evelyn, and Annie come barreling down the stairs a few minutes later, loudly demanding peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Castiel yields pretty quickly and they all relocate to the kitchen. Dean even picks up Evelyn without being prompted to and carries her, letting her snuggle into his chest. While the kids get settled at the table, Dean and Castiel draw out the ingredients and start assembling the snacks. They settle into a comfortable silence, with Dean looking at the angel out of the corner of his eye and pretending he isn't doing so at all, and Castiel courteously pretending not to notice.

*****

 

 

When Sam finally declares he's collected enough info on the hunt he's been busy studying for the past week, Dean decides to go with him. Castiel doesn't look too happy about it, but he doesn't try to dissuade him from going.

Dean hopes that getting out of the house will at least help clear up his head a bit.

It'll probably be easier to cope with the whole situation if he can get a chance to focus on something else that is not Cas or the children. For some reason, though, he also feels weirdly anxious at the thought of leaving them.

Sam offers him the car keys, letting them dangle teasingly in front of his face, and Dean is quick to snatch them away.

Sitting behind the Impala's wheel is a familiar and much-appreciated comfort all in itself. He sighs contentedly as he starts the engine and listens to her purr.

Sam is trying to be considerate, he knows.

Dean can feel his worried eyes tracking his every move. He tries to put up with it for as long as he can, tries concentrating on the road ahead, until he simply can't take it anymore. He snaps at him, telling him to “stop staring at me, you big girl. I'm _fine.”_

Sam just snorts and shakes his head.

“Still a jerk no matter what, huh?” he mutters under his breath.

They'd hit the road in the late afternoon, so it's no surprise when after only a few hours the sky begins to darken.

Since neither of them feels like spending the whole night behind the wheel, they agree to stop at a motel to get some rest.

What they certainly aren't expecting, though, is to open the door of their rented room and find Joel and Evelyn sitting on one of the beds, waiting for them.

“What are you two doing here?” Dean exclaims, incredulous, “Wait. Did you fly on your own? What were you _thinking?”_

Seeing that no answer is forthcoming, Dean sighs and fishes a bag of chocolate chips cookies out of his duffle bag, stepping forward and handing it over. He might as well make sure they're fed, since they're here and all. Sam closes the door with a soft click and leans against it while Dean fusses over the kids, checking them for any sign of possible injury. They both look okay, if a little exhausted, and they devour the cookies in almost no time.

“Papa is upset,” Evelyn says then out of the blue.

“Very upset,” confirms her brother.

Dean just blinks at them.

“Huh?”

“Did you two have a fight?” the girl asks in a small, anxious voice. “Are you going to leave?”

“Hey, now just wait a second-” Dean tries to say.

“Can't you just smooch and make up? You always do that!” Joel suggests, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah. We don't like seeing papa so upset!” Evelyn says.

“And we don't want you to _leave,”_ reiterates Joel.

“I-” the hunter stammers, feeling wrong-footed and caught decisively off guard, “I'm not-” _Going anywhere,_ is on the tip of his tongue, but he can't, he can't say that.

It turns out he doesn't have to, because right then Castiel appears in the room, an ugly, worried frown creasing his face.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asks, looking from Dean to Sam and then to the kids huddled guiltily on the bed.

“Um...” Dean says, awkwardly. “Don't be mad at them, Cas. It's not their fault. They were just... worried.”

“Worried?”

“Yeah. About me leaving. But,” he adds, turning to face Joel and Evelyn, crouching down on his legs to be on eye level with them. Suddenly he knows what he has – what he _wants_ – to say. “Listen, I love you very much, and I would never leave you, nor your papa. And Cas won't be upset anymore, I promise.”

Evelyn eyes him a little diffidently.

“Will you smooch, then?” she asks.

Dean playfully pinches her nose, making her giggle and squirm away.

“That's none of your business, sweetheart.”

“It's best to get you two home now,” Castiel cuts in curtly, without sparing Dean a second glance. He takes his son and daughter in his arms, and a blink later they're gone.

The moment Dean and his brother are alone again Sam opens his mouth, but Dean throws a warning glare in his direction.

“Don't even start.”

Sam holds up both hands in a sign of surrender and mimes sewing his mouth shut.

*****

 

 

When they get back to Bobby's yard the next day, it's way past dinner time.

They had called on the way back to let the others know they'd be home fairly late, and had stopped to eat something at a diner on the road.

When the Impala rolls into the driveway, Gabriel is waiting for them on the front porch. Dean cuts off the engine and they get out of the car, tired and rumpled and in much need of a shower. Gabriel runs down the few steps and throws himself into Sam's arms, much to Dean's utter dismay. When the archangel senses Dean's look he throws him a glare, squeezing Sam's middle even tighter.

“The kids?” his brother asks, running a hand through Gabriel's hair.

“Went to bed an hour ago. So did Cas,” he adds, directing the last words at Dean, who tries to ignore a small jab of disappointment. To be fair, he hadn't been expecting it, hadn't even thought about the fact that Castiel might have stayed up waiting for him to come home. Yet, a tiny part of him feels the sting now that he knows Castiel hadn't.

Dean takes a quick shower and changes into a pair of clean pajama bottoms. He tiptoes into the room he shares with Castiel and finds him huddled up under the covers. When Dean gently scoots the blankets back, he notices the angel is wearing a t-shirt that looks very familiar. So they all make a habit of stealing his clothes, apparently. It's not really surprising, all things considered. Dean finds it oddly sweet.

Castiel's eyelids flutter a little before slowly opening up, his gaze focusing instantly on Dean. The hunter sits down on the edge of the mattress and they stare at each other for a while, not saying anything. Dean takes the angel's hand, letting something fall onto his open palm.

Castiel's eyes widen slightly, his fingers carefully closing around the ring.

“I don't know,” Dean shrugs. “It was yours to begin with. I shouldn't have taken it. And I'm sorry for what happened. For everything, really.”

Castiel smiles a little sadly, holding the ring loosely in his palm but not putting it back on, and the sight breaks Dean's heart, even if he doesn't know why.

“You're in love with me, aren't you?” Dean murmurs, “I mean- were you in love with me, five years ago? As in, the Cas that I know, does he feel the same way you... does he?”

Castiel sighs, reaching out to cradle Dean's head.

“If I'm not real, as you said, does it even matter?”

 _It matters,_ Dean wants to say, _of course it does._

Dean can feel the start of a headache pulsing at his temples and doesn't resist when Castiel nudges at his shoulders, pushing him down into the mattress. After a moment Castiel joins him, his dark head pillowed on Dean's chest. Without really thinking about it, Dean slings an arm around his waist to pull him closer.

“Wait, I thought we were supposed to smooch. Wouldn't want to disappoint the kids, would we?” he grins.

Castiel laughs softly.

“Yeah.” He shifts closer and kisses Dean's cheek, his lips lingering sweetly. Dean's eyelids flutter shut at the feeling. Castiel burrows his face in his neck with a pleased sigh. _Tomorrow,_ Dean thinks just before falling asleep, _I will kiss him properly tomorrow._

*****

 

 

“Dean? Dean. Wake up. Dean? It's late, come on, wake up!”

Someone is shaking him roughly by the shoulders.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, groaning inwardly.

The kids are going to be here in a minute. He had promised Joel and Evelyn to take them for a drive in the Impala and then later meet up with Gabriel and Annie to get waffles and-

_“Dean.”_

Dean opens his eyes.

Sam's worried face swims in his peripheral vision.

“Hey. Welcome back to the world of the living,” his brother laughs, sounding relieved, while Dean looks around, taking in his surroundings for the first time.

The motel. The shitty motel in Northbrook. Oh, _fuck._

His clothes are still covered in fairy dust, his head aches, a dull thrumming behind his eyelids.

And just like that, he knows, they're gone. All of them. He feels a sharp, painful tug in his chest at the realization.

“Are you alright? You look like shit,” Sam says.

“No. NO. I'm fucking _not_ alright,” Dean groans, holding his head in his hands, and then he looks up sharply, “And _shut up._ You don't get to say anything. Don't make me even start with you. You were sleeping with _Gabriel,_ for God's sake! What is wrong with you? I mean, GABRIEL? SERIOUSLY?”

Sam gapes at him, his face going crimson red.

“I-I was WHAT? Are you drunk? Did you hit your head?!”

Dean stomps out of bed and closes himself in the bathroom.

He starts the shower, gets undressed, and steps under the water spray. This time the fairy dust slips away from his skin easily, pooling at his feet. Numbly, he watches it disappear down the drain, like the blurring edges of a fading dream.

*****

 

 

In the end, it takes Dean exactly two weeks to come to terms with everything that happened. He spends the time taking out his growing frustration on everyone who's around (namely, Sam). He lies awake in bed, sleep escaping him, missing soft laughs and blue, blue eyes and little fingers curving around his hands. He stares up at the ceiling in the darkness, trying not to think that Castiel was avoiding him on purpose.

The angel has been ignoring them ever since Dean practically told him to fuck off and not bother showing up again. He can't really blame him.

Fed up, one night Dean goes to a bar and tries to pick up a girl, just to prove to himself that it all had meant nothing, that it had been just a stupid, hallucinatory, fairy-induced dream. But when she leans in to kiss him, the taste of her feels so _wrong_ in his mouth that it sends him reeling back, spluttering. The girl frowns indignantly at him and quickly scurries away.

Even after that spectacular failure another full week has to pass before Dean works up the courage to call the angel.

He and Sam have been staying at Bobby's for a few days now, taking advantage of his well-furnished library to do some research on a werewolf-like creature that's been causing havoc in the area.

After dinner, as Sam and Bobby get back to work, Dean decides he can't put this thing off any longer and quietly makes his way upstairs. He sits down on the edge of the bed in one of the guestrooms, torturing his hands and praying under his breath for the angel to turn up.

_It's important. Please. Please, Cas. We need to talk. Please don't shut me out._

And Castiel does turn up, finally - wary-eyed, shoulders slumped and scowl firmly in place, his trench coat looking more crinkled than usual. Dean feels his heart swell at the sight, which sounds disgustingly corny, but true nonetheless. God, how he has missed him.

“Dean,” the angel says, not looking him in the eyes, clearly distressed and unhappy, “I do not have much time. What could possibly be so urgent that-”

As the angel tries to speak further Dean steps right into his personal space, grabs the lapels of his stupid trench coat and tugs, leaning forward until their lips collide, messily and off-center and quite- well, quite awkwardly.

Castiel instantly stiffens, going completely still, almost statue-like. Dean breathes through his nose, his eyes falling shut of their own accord. He timidly tries to shift the angle of the kiss, pressing a tiny bit closer, his lips grazing the angel's slowly. They're chapped and dry, and it feels- it feels- well, it still feels mostly weird. But he's sure, more than anything, that this is what he wants – what he found himself unexpectedly wanting -, just him, this angel who's so annoyingly brave and infinitely precious.

Dean pulls back slowly and finds himself staring into clouded, panicked eyes. He swallows, suddenly losing a little of his confidence.

“Okay. Um. Not quite the reaction I was hoping for, but... Here. Give me your hand.”

He shakily pulls out the ring from his jeans' front pocket and slowly inches it up right where it belongs, holding Castiel's lax hand in his own.

“Dean, what...? I don't understand. What are you-”

“This?” Dean touches the ring with his thumb. He had it modified slightly so now it's a close, almost perfect fit. “This means I want to be yours. If... if you'll have me, that is.”

The angel's face kind of crumples at that. And it's heartbreaking for Dean, seeing the blind confusion and timid, helpless, self-deprecating hope he finds there. How did he ever manage to miss it all this time?

“Dean. I- please, I don't- Don't toy with me, I don't appreciate it. What are you even talking about, _why-”_

Dean sees him retreating, shaking his head. On the verge of panicking, knowing Castiel could choose to disappear in a blink of an eye, he quickly pushes out one word after another, fearing he might choke on them if he doesn't.

“I know. Cas. Please, just listen, okay? I know it's crazy. I know it comes out of nowhere, and I treated you like shit the last time we talked, but I had this- I don't know, dream, I guess, which was absolutely insane. And you were kissing me and wearing my mother's ring, and at first I couldn't believe it, but then I realized- I realized it was meant to be yours from the start... because Cas, it's so fucking easy to fall in love with you. I must be the blindest man on earth for not seeing it sooner, but _God,_ now I want it, I want it all. I want you so mu-” Castiel cuts him off, tangling shaky fingers in his hair and crushing his mouth back onto Dean's.

It's just a heated press of lips on lips, still awkward and with no finesse to it, but it sends short-circuits to Dean's brain because Castiel is _kissing_ him.

“You. You are not making any sense,” Castiel informs him with a small, breathless laugh.

Dean nods fervently, suddenly exhilarated.

“I know. _I know,_ Cas. But- just, please, just give me a chance. _Please.”_

There's a soft light in the angel's eyes now, as he slowly draws in a long breath and then finally gives a small nod, letting Dean take both his hands in his own.

Dean can feel his heart beating wildly in his throat.

In the silence that follows, Castiel tilts his head to the side, frowning slightly.

“What now?” he asks candidly, and he would look entirely innocent if it weren't for the quirk at the corners of his mouth, which tells a completely different story.

“Now?” Dean laughs, murmuring his answer right against his lips. “Now we smooch.”

*****

 

 

At some point during the night, when things have drastically moved forward on the bed and clothes have been discarded all over the floor, Dean admits to himself that making love with Castiel might be his new favorite thing ever.

When Castiel spreads out his wings, Dean wastes no time in burying his sweaty, hungry fingers in them, grabbing at handfuls of quivering feathers and tugging them gently while he sucks a shiny, purple mark on the flesh of the angel's throat. Castiel goes a bit wild after that, but complaining is the absolute last thing on Dean's mind.

They sure end up being kind of loud.

He can't find it in himself to care, though.

*****

 

 

When he shows up at breakfast the next day, Sam is not looking him in the eyes, and the same goes for Bobby.

They keep their heads lowered, seemingly very interested in the contents of their plates. Dean, for his part, does his best to tiptoe around the pink, gay elephant in the room and pours himself a cup of coffee, stealing a strip of bacon from Sam just to hear him bitch about it.

After a few minutes Castiel turns up as well, appearing in the kitchen with a rush of feathers, looking a bit hesitant, a bit hopeful, his eyes turning cautious when they meet Dean's gaze.

“Hey. Good morning. We have pie, if you want. And... uh, coffee, too,” Dean supplies when the silence stretches far too long and starts bordering on uncomfortable. “Do you want to join us?”

Castiel smiles his softest, most adoring smile then and Dean just has to lean in and taste it right from his gorgeous lips. He hears Sam make a fake gagging noise behind his back, and he smiles into the kiss, lightly stroking Castiel's hip with a palm when he feels him tensing up against him.  
_Then_ he turns and faces his little brother.

“Will you shut up, Sammy! Do I have to remind you that you had the nerve to procreate with _the Trickster?_ And you, Bobby? I mean, I know you kissed the guy and everything, but that was just- ugh, _gross.”_

Their faces at that are simply priceless.

Dean snorts, turning towards Castiel again, who's looking at him with a confused frown.

And since it would take way too long to explain, he just grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls him back in.

*****

 

 

 

_Bonus n°1_

 

“Dean. Wake up. Dean. _Dean.”_

Dean stirs awake in the middle of the night.

His angel is poking him in the side and being stubbornly relentless about it. He cracks one eye open, yawning.

“What is it? It's what, three a.m...” he mumbles. Then he smirks, adding, “Besides, you kind of wore me out, so I think I _deserve-”_

_“Dean.”_

Dean huffs out a resigned sigh.

 _“Alright._ What is it?”

“I'm hungry.”

“And you woke me up at this ungodly hour just to tell me that?”

_“Yes.”_

Dean groans loudly and buries his face into the pillow, pulling up the covers. Castiel heaves himself up and sits against the headboard. He waits, patiently, for Dean to catch up with him. And Dean does, four seconds later, slowly turning his head to look up at the angel.

“You're _hungry?”_ he repeats, his eyes rapidly widening.

“I am. Very hungry,” confirms Castiel with a solemn nod, a smile tugging at his lips.

Dean opens his mouth again, but nothing comes out.

Castiel shifts on top of him beneath the covers, leaning down against his chest and cradling his head in his palms.

“So. Joel for a boy, and Evelyn for a girl. They are good names, right? Do you still like them?” Castiel whispers against his lips, thumbing away a stray tear that rolls down Dean's cheek and smiling that soft, loving smile of his.

“Yeah,” Dean manages a bit shakily when he finds his voice again, “Yeah. I like them. They're perfect.”

“Good.” Castiel nods again, satisfied, and then becomes suddenly very serious. “Now, I believe, it would be customary for you to go retrieve some form of nourishment. I would like a hamburger. And some french fries. And also a strawberry milkshake, with those tiny colorful sprinkles. I like those.”

Dean stares at him with his mouth hanging open, and then dissolves into a fit of laughter, hiding his grin in the angel's neck and holding onto him for all he's worth.

“You know, angel, you could just zap yourself to the diner and-”

Castiel frowns at him, seeming deeply offended at the suggestion.

“But it is _customary_ for you to-”

Dean sighs, pecking him on the lips before rolling out of bed and grabbing his pants from the floor.

“I get it. I'll be right back.”

*****

 

 

 

_Bonus n°2_

 

Sam grimaces when he hears muffled, indistinct sounds coming from his brother's room.

He knows what _those_ are usually the prelude to. He tries to smother his head in between two pillows, but unfortunately that doesn't really work.

A rustle of wings later and Gabriel – who turned out to be not as dead as they thought – is suddenly standing in the room.

“I heard the good news!” he bellows, grinning broadly.

“What the hell?!” Sam shouts as he bolts up straight in his bed.

“Alright, I might have eavesdropped just a _tiiiny_ bit, but it was all for a good cause. We should celebrate!”

“What are you talking about? And what are you doing in my bedroom anyway? Get out!”

“No need to be so nasty, love,” Gabriel tuts.

Sam watches, horrified, as the archangel plops down on the edge of the bed, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

The sounds from the room nearby are getting increasingly louder and Sam's face uncomfortably warmer.

“If you really must know, I'm here because lately you've been having some very interesting dreams about me and some rather... unconventional uses of my mouth.”

If Sam had thought hearing his big brother and Castiel having a go at it next door was embarrassing, it was _nothing_ compared to this.

“Oh my God. I can't believe this is happening. That's why you're here? To mock me until I die of complete and utter _shame?”_

“On the contrary,” Gabriel says calmly, inching a bit closer on the rumpled sheets. Sam's eyes widen in alarm. “I think the whole idea of you and me together could have a lot of potential,” he purrs – there's no other way to describe it, he fucking _purrs_ \- wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Sam just stares, mouth hanging open.

“So,” Gabriel continues, undeterred, “I was hoping you could tell me a bit more about it?” His grin gets dangerously wider. “Or show me, whichever you prefer.”

*****

 

 

 

_Bonus n°3_

 

To say that breakfast the next morning is a pretty awkward affair would be a seriously poor understatement.

Gabriel, for his part, looks unbearably smug.

Sam, on the other hand, looks like he would like for the floor to swallow him whole.

Castiel just looks at the two of them slightly bewildered, but he seems happy to see his brother. Meanwhile, Dean is stroking a thumb on the back of Castiel's hand, their fingers entwined on the table. He's also determinedly not looking at either Sam or Gabriel as he stabs his stack of pancakes with a lot more aggression than really necessary.

“Okay, enough. Are you going to say something or not?” Sam finally blurts out. Dean lifts his eyes on him.

“Yeah, Sammy. I'm going to say this: if you could keep it down in the future, it would be much appreciated. Also, I don't approve.”

Sam flushes hotly. “As if you're one to talk! And what do you mean, _not approve?”_

“What, I should be happy to have this dickhead around now?”

“I'm sitting right here, thank you.”

“He just wanted to get in your pants,” Dean grumbles.

“I don't see why Gabriel would want to get in Sam's clothes. They wouldn't properly fit him-” Castiel starts, cautiously.

“Cas, not now-”

“Little brother, sometimes you are truly ridiculous.”

“I merely said-”

 _“You are_. You put _sprinkles_ on your french fries, Cas!” Gabriel insists, snickering.

“Hey. He can do whatever the fuck he wants!” Dean snaps.

“Protective much, huh, Winchester?” Gabriel rolls his eyes.

“I won't have him around at meals, Sam. That's out of the question. I'm fucking serious.”

“I don't see how that is up to you to decide. If you'd just stop being a dick about it-” Sam starts, sounding exasperated.

 _“I_ am being a dick?”

 _“You_ started it-”

“You _asked me_ if I liked the idea of my little brother having a roll in the sack with the Trickster!”

“Well, to be fair, you knocked up _my_ little brother, but you don't see me making such a fuss about it,” Gabriel says, shrugging. “Cas, congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“Wait, what?! _You knocked up Cas?”_ Sam shouts.

“I- wait a second. Gabriel, how did you even know? Oh my _God._ Have you been _spying_ on us? I will fucking end you!”

“I'd like to see you try, Dean-o.”

“Will you stop, both of you!”

“Please, kiddo-”

“I WILL KICK EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

They all fall silent, turning their heads to see Bobby standing in the doorway. He harrumphs and then adds, in a much gentler tone, “Except you, Cas. You can stay.”

Castiel perks up at that, beaming closed-mouthed at Bobby while he keeps munching on his bite of pancake.

“You other idjits, you either learn to behave, or out you go!”

Dean, Sam and Gabriel look sufficiently chastised and meekly murmur a chorus of “sorry”.

“I guess,” Dean grits through clenched teeth, “that I'll learn to put up with him, _eventually.”_

He's only doing it for Sam and Cas. And also for his future niece's sake. He'd grown rather fond of her, after all.

Sam throws a relieved grin his way, then he turns towards Gabriel. The archangel's trademark smirk softens into a more genuine smile when he meets Sam's eyes.

Dean huffs, diverting his gaze.

He chances a look at Bobby, wondering, not for the first time, if the thing with Crowley he had (unwillingly) witnessed had been a one-time deal or something more serious. Bobby frowns back at him, obviously not appreciating the scrutiny. Dean decides he doesn't want to know. Not now, and preferably not ever.

Castiel is still eating his food somewhat awkwardly, holding up the fork with his left hand, his right one still locked tightly around Dean's.

“Hey, angel.”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I love you.”

The minor discomfort of saying it in front of an audience is soon washed away when Castiel rewards him with one of his large gummy smiles, his nose crinkling up adorably.

Dean lifts their joined hands to his face to brush a tiny kiss on Castiel's knuckles.

From where he's sitting, the future certainly looks pretty bright.

 

 


End file.
